


Circean Reality

by princepancake



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, High School, M/M, confused countries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princepancake/pseuds/princepancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romano wakes up to an unfamiliar setting and very familiar people; but why are they calling him 'Lovino' and insisting that he's not a country? If that isn't enough, he has to attend something he would never wish even on that macho potato: high school!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fettuccine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nadia](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nadia).



Romano was not having a good week. That bastard England had tried infiltrating Italy again; his Northern brother had the balls to call Germany, of all people, to help him eat his dinner like Romano wasn't fucking there; the mafia was being more pigheaded than usual; and Spain ignored him in favor of one of his novela finales.

Needless to say, Romano could not wait for Sunday, the one day he was allowed to stay at home. So imagine his surprise when he wakes up in what was certainly not the bedroom he used in his Sicilian mansion. He's groggy at first, not noticing how his Queen sized mattress turned into a twin or how his twin is right in front of him when Veneciano should be sleeping in Sausage Land next to that stupid German.

Seeing his mirror image does not scare Romano, but his brother's clothes sure do. What was Veneciano wearing? Was he trying to embarrass his Southern counterpart from ever showing his face outside? Veneciano's attire consisted of a solid navy blue t-shirt and overalls with rips that were definitely not made by the manufacturer. The other male was half straddling Romano, ve-ing with his normal dopey look. Romano dreads looking at his shoes and instead looks up to question Veneciano's presence.

Before Romano is able to mouth his thoughts he is startled by a man that looks just like the Great Roman Empire barging right into his room, but that's impossible because that man is dead so it must be a ghost and just why is the Great Roman Empire's ghost wearing an apron in his Sicilian mansion?

Romano gawks as his brother looks back to the ghost, completely unfazed that there's a freaking ghost and holy shit, has the ghost been talking to him this whole time?

"-so hurry up if you don't want to be late!" finished up the ghost, waving a spatula menacingly in Romano's direction for a couple of seconds before smiling and turning to vacate the room.

"I'm so excited! Do you think I'll make lots of friends Lovi?" Veneciano turns back to Romano, directing the question at him, but 'Lovi' was definitely not Romano's name, so there was no way he was going to answer his ditz of a brother.

After a minute of silence Veneciano-with-no-fashion-sense opens his eyes a bit, just enough to see their honey brown shade, and tilts his head a smidgen to the left. Romano is getting irked at the close proximity and decides to humor his brother.

"Fucker, that's not my name." Or not.

"E…eh? What do you mean that that isn't your name? Of course it is! You've been Lovino Vargas since birth!" Romano looks at his brother, wondering what is wrong with him.

"No, I'm Romano South Italy. I knew you were a ditz Veneciano, but how do you forget your own twin's name?" Veneciano starts to look worried at this point.

"Ve, brother, my name isn't Veneciano, it's Feliciano!" Before Romano can deny that, 'Feliciano' continued, "And we're not twins, you're my older brother! Do you have a fever?"

Instead of gracing his 'younger brother' with a response, Romano pushes Veneciano off of his bed and marches out of the room with the goal to confront the creepy ghost of the Roman Empire.

"Lovi, where are you going? We have to get ready soon or we'll be late!" whines the body on the floor.

"I want to know what's going on and you're just fucking confusing me!" Romano needs answers and no ghost or confused brother was going to stop an Italian personification on a mission.

Veneciano laughs quietly and offers his advice, "Ve, grandpa is downstairs in the kitchen!"

Pretty worthless advice if Romano doesn't even know where he is. The Italian goes through three doors that lead to a different room, a closet, and a medium sized bathroom before he decides to murder someone if he does not find the stairs soon.

To Veneciano's luck Romano finds his staircase when he rounds the corner. The Southern part of the country awkwardly goes down the steps one at a time because holy shit, were those stairs made for toddlers? Romano has to go down the stairs sideways just to make sure his feet don't fly off the small, cramped path.

Veneciano runs right after him, having absolutely no trouble going down what his 'big brother' deems the obstacle course from hell. The smiling male grabs hold of Romano's hand when they reach the last step, navigating past what Romano considered a peasant dining area to look like.

"What are you doing? Let me go! You think I'm too stupid to find my way around?" Veneciano giggles at his words as if Romano had just told the worlds' funniest joke; Completely ignoring his vulgar language and crude attempts to shove the shorter male out of his personal bubble.

When they reach the kitchen Romano is not sure whether to piss his pants in fear or laughter, it is not every day one can stare at the Great Roman Empire's ghost scrambling eggs in nothing but khaki shorts and a cooking apron. The man, ghost, thing turns to acknowledge the incoming males with a smile.

"So nice of you to join us in the world of the living, Lovino!" When Romano 'tched' at the name that was most definitely not his, the ghost takes the time to get a good look at him and says, "You're still in your jammies boy; go get dressed before you're late on your first day! Don't want them thinking I raised a troublemaker... I'll never be able to woo those single ladies if they think I'm a barbarian!"

Romano glares at what he believed to be a smart, conquering ghost of a man but is now sure to be only a hollow chunk of space. His opinion is only reinforced when the man continues to ignore the eggs that were slowly burning on the stove in favor of rambling on about something Romano had no idea about. The ghost finally notices his eggs burning when Feliciano points out that, "Ve, grandpa, I think the eggs are going to explode, there's smoke!" in his slightly amused voice.

One panic-filled scramble later finds Romano telling the two males that he really had to go because dammit, does no one understand that I'm the Southern fucking part of the great Italian Republic? Veneciano and the ghost take the news like any other normal human being.

They laugh.

It is only after a couple more times with Romano insisting that he really needs to get to his Sicilian mansion that he is informed by Veneciano, of all people, that they are in American and Lovino has never even been outside of the state, much less have the possibility of owning a mansion in a country whose language he can't even differentiate from Spanish.

Romano is flipping a shit at the news and demands to awaken from this nightmare. The ghost chuckles nervously at his grandson; This is enough to elicit Romano's attention and a new bout of shouting begins with Romano blaming 'Mr. Ghost' for his predicament.

"Mr. Ghost? What are you talking about Lovino? I'm your grandpa! I knew you wanted me dead, but sheesh!"

Romano now wants to know why he should refer to the ghost as Romulus when he is obviously a ghost and giving him a name would only incite the devil's rage. Being the personification that surrounds Vatican City has not come without side effects on Romano's judgment.

"Oh boy; what to do..." Romulus taps his fingers in an uneven beat on the dining room table. Eyes steadily glaze in thought as he stares at the china cabinet that takes up a part of the wall. Romano, irritated with his predicament by now, folds his arms in front of his chest and scowls; The man, teen, appears what can only be described as 'a volcano about ready to erupt any moment now'. Veneciano, or apparently Feliciano, became unusually quiet and looks worriedly between his two family members.

The quietness in the room is unnerving and none of the Vargas males can handle keeping still; It becomes a mess as before the minute is over all three men produce some type of noise. Romano slams his hands on the hard oak table, huffing and mouth ready to shout every expletive he knows at the defenseless males; Feliciano stands up rapidly, almost falling as he has a leg tangled with the bottom of his chair; and Romulus' fists one of his hands while placing it onto the palm of the other, yelling out an 'A-hah!' at the top of his voice.

-fettuccine-

In the end Romano is asked by the ghost to just go to school for the day and that they would resolve the country personification delusion when he and his brother came back. To say that Romano is beyond pissed to have his problem brushed off as a bout of teenage insanity is an understatement.

Standing awkwardly around the kitchen island for another ten minutes rewards Romulus with an explanation as to why Lovino, his lovable and caring grandson, has suddenly turned into a foul mouthed delinquent by the name of Romano.

His revelation?

It is obvious that Romano's 'fantasy world' is just a product of the poor teen hitting his head on something really, really hard. Something like marble stone hard.

"That's it Lovino! You just hit your precious little head on a conveniently placed marble statue some time in your past sixteen years of living-" Romano wants to not only correct the man for using the wrong name when addressing him again, but also the incorrect age that he is dubbed with; Ghost man must be tripping if he thinks the Italian to be anything younger than a thousand years, but the solid plasma man's rapid speech certainly rivaled Great Roman's inability to shut up, causing Romano's intervention to fail completely. "All we have to do is hit you twice as hard and you'll be good as new!"

Romano thinks that it sounds logical enough. Who is he kidding? Being a country personification is a preposterous idea and he's actually a human being that only imagined his whole life as a territory and country when he damaged his skull one day; all he has to do to go back to his normal living routine is to risk a little permanent brain damage, no big. Sounds about righ-

"There's no way in hell I am doing that! Are you crazy, Mr. Ghost? I'm a country, dammit!" Romano wraps his hands around the ghost's neck, attempts to throw the imbecile across the china cabinets' glass to give him a fucking concussion and see how well and dandy he likes the idea, but Feli-Veneciano karate chops Romano right on the folds of his arms, effectively saving his older brother from a life in prison.

Romulus decides to have Romano and Feliciano go with the excuse of 'temporary amnesia', temporary because it can be fixed the moment Romano concedes with theconcussion route. The 'amnesia' line is to only be used if Romano comes upon someone or something his current 'condition' does not recognize, or has killed off. Romano finds that it would be a bloody brilliant plan if it hadn't been thought up by such an idiot.

After all is settled, the Vargas family begins to execute their fool proof plan. Romulus goes back to the kitchen to finish up making breakfast while Feliciano navigates Lovino back up the deathtrap towards his room to help Lovino change into school appropriate clothing, all the while informing Romano that Lovino's favorite color is green, not red; his favorite animal and best friend is a turtle named Nacho that they keep in a small tank by the television, 'Nacho loves watching those Animal Planet specials, ve, he can't help himself with Mean Girls either!'; and his birthday is on March 17, convincing Romano that he really is sixteen years old in this 'reality' and that Feliciano's birthday just passed recently, on June 2nd to be exact, and he is finally fourteen.

Romano decides that he can just bluff his way through the day as most of what Feliciano is now telling him is extremely irrelevant, so the teen zones out as he attempts to put on a pair of faded jeans without his inner designer puking all over the carpeted floor, and really Feliciano, who wants to know Lovino's dress size?

Even though it is obvious that Feliciano is being ignored, the teen continues on with his extra rambling. From the bits he does listen to, Romano learns that he is to start his 'junior' year of high school and Feliciano is entering as a 'freshman' and well shit, Romano has never had to attend school in his life; The only smart he falls under is good looks, but Romano just asked Feliciano and nope, being handsome is not a class.

Romano is not amused.

-fettuccine-

When Feliciano and Lovino arrive at school they are well over an hour late and the hallways are deserted. Not even a guard is in sight to pass the boys through security; Romano feels no need to wait and walks right under the metal detector, setting it off, while Feliciano screams his head off at the possibility of getting suspended for 'breaking in' to their own school.

The two walk to the office with Feliciano leading, a note in his hand from Romulus explaining his oldest grandson's incapability of responding to his own name and how the boy is going through a rebellious phase just like all other normal human teens and so many other ridiculous excuses and side comments that it would shame any child in existence. It is the second version of the note, as the first was handed to Romano by a gullible Romulus. Romano shredded the first note and threw it at the ghost while cursing the Great Roman's grave out loud.

The principal is standing by the intercom microphone behind the front desk, eyes glued to a sheet of paper while mumbling gibberish under his breath. He turns to notice the two when Feliciano shouts a quick 'hello there!' and Romano is given a clear view of the man. He is short, shorter than even Romano by quite a bit, with a chubby figure and such very dark brown hair that his green eyes seem to pop out. He looks to be in his early fifties with very apparent laugh lines covering his face. Overall, the principal looks like a swell and handsome fellow, but he is glaring at the two the moment he notices that they are students, obviously displeased at having a disruption in his building of higher education on the first day, but his eyes soften with pity as he skims the note that Feliciano hands to him. The man then turns to walk into a side office, Romano finds this to be the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out, but Feliciano knows his brother enough to anticipate a hasty retreat that he snatches the other male's arm with his before Romano could showcase firsthand what Italians do best.

It is only a minute before the principal comes back with a thin stack of papers. He hands the bottom two to the students and Romano notices that it is a crudely made schedule, nothing like the itineraries the German Nation prepared for when the world conference was hosted in his country, and sneers at involuntarily giving the bastard a praise.

The principal, Romano had yet to learn his name, then takes a smaller, yellow piece of paper from the top of the stack and proceeds to write the date and time, asking Feliciano how to spell 'Fettuccine' and apologizing for not knowing how to spell his name. Feliciano laughs at this and just takes the paper, not correctly the older male's mistake. He turns to his brother and squeezes his hand in reassurance before turning to the door and saying his farewell.

Now it is only Romano, the principal, and the super awkward atmosphere that is so thick in the room that the Italian swears he can feel himself choking on it. Romano is imagining a thousand and one ways to escape from the room when a clearing of the throat startles him, the principal mumbles a quick 'well then' and leans a bit on the desk to write on a blank regular sized piece of paper with what Romano can only describe as 'doctor chicken scratch' from his angle on the opposite side of the room.

After what feels like a terribly long time, the principal turns to give Romano the paper he had written on and a yellow slip similar to the one he had handed Feliciano earlier with the words 'Hall Pass' slapped on in bold font. Romano takes the papers and grumbles a half-assed 'thanks' as he walks out of the room.

Before the principal is able to resume his previous activity of reviewing the morning announcements, Romano marches right back in to the office with a red face and demands that the poor man lead him to his first class. The principal gives a hearty laugh and walks towards Romano, asking him for the stack he had handed to the boy just moments ago.

It turns out the principal thought up the possibility of Romano forgetting his own school's layout and kindly included a map. Romano leaves the room in a silent fit of anger.

As Roma-Lovino is burning a hole in the school map with his eyes, he can't help but think back to the piece of paper that held his schedule. He glances at the first thing on the list and immediately feels his insides warm up in relief. His crazy human self has World History first period.

Even with the promise of something he was knowledgeable in, Romano cannot help the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach the farther he walks down the hall.

This was going to be worse than the time he partied too hard that he accidentally let Mussolini come to power back in 1922; Romano can just feel it.


	2. Betwixt

After much stalling, Romano is now standing in front of his classroom. His hands are sweating, the stack of papers are now a crumbled mess in his nervous grip. The nation takes in a deep breath, raising his unoccupied hand to take hold of the doorknob Romano swore was mocking him.

'Tch, what am I so afraid of? I'm a fucking half-nation, World History has nothing on me! Hell, girls will probably wet themselves the second they lay eyes on me; Hah, I should have worn something ugly to protect my other selves' virgin body.' And with renewed vigor Romano gives a cocky grin, ready to blow away everyone with his extensive knowledge of Italian history that most history majors could only hope to achieve in ten lifetimes; he turns the knob halfway before he is interrupted, quite rudely, by the bell.

"Fuck."

Romano hears shuffling on the other side of the door, he dodges out of the way, careful to not get trampled by the overenthusiastic teens chatting away to their next class. Romano is relieved that not one of the many humans exiting seemed to recognize him as he shuffles in to at least greet the teacher he would be spending who knows how many mornings with.

"Hello, you're quite early. Most kids tend to stay away from their next class for as long as possible on the first day." The man sitting behind the desk says, Romano cannot help but look right into his eyes, they are stern but his voice is dripping with mirth as he regards Romano's uncomfortable form awkwardly blocking the room's only doorway.

"I. Ahh." Romano's brain shuts down when the man stands up, looking even more menacing as he towers over the teen. The teacher silently walks up to Romano with a slightly worried look as the teen nation is stock still. Before he is able to voice any type of concern, Romano shoves his stack of papers towards the man's chest. The teacher with the stern eyes lets out a bit of a surprised noise and accepts the crumpled pieces. He skims over all of them with a 'hm' escaping every other shift of his eyes.

"So you're… Lovino Vargas?" The teacher looks up from the papers in his hands fast enough to catch a hesitant nod from Romano. "..And you're…" The teacher's words drifting off as he gets a pensive look, wrinkles appearing on his forehead as he lowers his gaze back down to the note from the principal.

"Call me Romano."

"Huh?" The sudden outburst from Romano startles the teacher back from his thoughts, garnering his full attention back to the teen that wanted anything but that.

"I said: Call me Romano, I don't like 'Loreno' or whatever you called me." Romano replied, more confidence in his voice than when he first entered the room. The teacher only looked to grow more worried at this statement.

"Well Romano," Romano could hear the hesitation dripping from the teacher's voice at having to call him his real fucking name and it pissed him off. "I'm the history teacher and this is World History; you didn't miss much, all we did was introduce ourselves and I passed out," He turns to his desk, grabbing a stack of stapled papers, "this syllabus. Be sure to read It with your parent and return it by Friday signed to get credit."

The man cuts anything else he was thinking of saying as students finally start to pile in and the warning bell goes off. He writes another pass for Romano to get to his next class. The History teacher introduces himself before Romano leaves the room, but the whole time Romano can only wonder how humans can do this every weekday for nine out of twelve months a year.

-Betwixt-

Lovino was elated.

He wakes up to a grandeur mansion only ever admired on the Travel Channel, his pajamas are made of material one can only associate with the filthy rich or filthy pretty freaking good looking models, and best of all his stupid little brother and dumb as fuck grandfather were nowhere in sight to annoy him! It was truly a dream come true for the human teen laying on the Queen sized bed in Romano's Sicilian mansion.

Not once did the boy question his surroundings or think about exploring the unknown. Lovino spends all morning and most of the afternoon rolling on top of the feathery pillows and encircling himself with the smooth sheets, digging his face into the most amazing feeling in the world.

Money.

-Betwixt-

It is now advisement and Romano cannot for the life of him remember a single thing that occurred in any of his first three actual classes, the whole morning becoming a jumbled mess of faces, although the nation recognized some teens of Italian ancestry, a tingle in his bones whenever one of his people bumped into him in the crowded hallways.

Romano repeats the action of passing his note to the advisement coach, not even caring to look up at another person's confused expression for the nth time this day.

"Hello there-" 'Here it comes.' he dreads, "Romano! Just come to me if you have any worries! I'm Mrs. Héderváry and I'll be your advisor for this school year!" The woman's' cheery tone surprises Romano, almost scaring him at how easy it is to imagine the words smiling at him; Even worse, Romano can recognize that voice a lot easier than he should in a human school.

"Oh, but please call me Mrs. H! 'Héderváry' sounds so stuffy and totally old lady-ish, I'm only in my late twenties you know!" The woman keeps talking but Romano is barely paying it any mind, instead he looks up; his eyes are wide as he takes in the face that most certainly did not belong.

"Ms. Hungary?"

-Betwixt-

It is already past four in the afternoon and Lovino is starving. Lying in bed all day is fun, but the teen was still human and food was still a necessity for his survival.

Lovino groans as he leaves the comfort of his mattress, running his right hand under the silk pajama top to rub his growling stomach. A hiss leaves his mouth as his feet make contact with the chilly marble floor. Once the teen's feet become accustomed to the temperature, he makes quick work of the bedroom, instead paying more attention once he enters the long hallway, taking note of which door he just exited to make sure he only uses one of the many bedrooms he encounters through a stairway-searching fiasco. Finding the kitchen was going to be more work than he had imagined.

-Betwixt-

"Hungary?" Mrs. Héderváry is now looking at Romano with curiosity. "Oh, is that what you would rather call me? I'm fine with that!" She chuckles just a bit here, "I am actually an immigrant from Hungary! How did you know? It was the sexy accent, wasn't it? Well, let me tell you: I'm married! There's no way you're my type either honey. I like my men legal." Romano just stares at her now, not knowing what to say. He takes a second to collect everything the familiar stranger said and replies with a quick, "Oh. Okay," taking a random seat near the middle of the classroom, waiting for the short class to begin.

Romano does not care to look at the students in any of his classes, just wanting to get the day over with without a hitch, but now that he has encountered what he believes to be another nation Romano can't help but to look up for just a moment; A tinge of fear in what, or who, he just might find.

As he scans the front of the room, he lets out a sigh in relief; everyone in front of him was just an ordinary human he had never met.

"Alright guys, the bell will ring in just a minute but I wanted to introduce myself real quick! I am Mrs. Héderváry and I will guide all of you young ones through the path of life. I'm pretty sure most of you already know what advisement is, so could one of you ex-" The bell rings, cutting off the woman for only a second, "explain real quick?" Romano does not know if Mrs. Héderváry had done that on purpose, but he was grateful for her question. He could guess what Graphic Design, Physics, and Calculus were, but never in his life had the nation heard of a course called 'advisement.'

"OH! Me! Me! I can Mrs. H!" A boisterous voice breaks through the short silence after Mrs. Héderváry question and Romano is back to hyperventilating mode.

-Betwixt-

Lovino finally comes upon a staircase after what feels like hours; He is surprised at how wide the steps are, and he cannot help but think how a giant must live there with the way he has to pretty much split his legs completely apart to reach each one.

It takes Lovino longer than it should to reach the bottom, but before he is able to jump off the staircase he is interrupted by a knock on the door only ten feet away.

Lovino groans and picks up his pace, not minding the fact that he is technically not in his house and thus should not be opening the door.

The knocking becomes more intense as Lovino struggles to unlatch and open the twenty thousand locks adorning the side of the door. This only serves to anger the teen who takes his anger on the door with a mad kick.

"Shit! Whatever bastard that's causing this ruckus better learn to fucking wait, it's not my fault I got stuck in a paranoid giant's mansion." Lovino grunts.

Once the door is successfully open, Lovino is assaulted by a taller body.

"Roma! Did you miss boss? I'm sorry for ignoring you the other day, it was just that the novela I was watching was really at its climax and I couldn't miss the ending even if my economy was crashing!" The male holding Lovino in his arms yells, rubbing his cheek with the side of Lovino's head.

"Urk! The hel-Who are you? Get off of me!" Lovino panics and begins to yell, "Molester! Homo! Get your hands off!"

"Ahh, what are you talking about Roma? It's me: boss!" The male lets go of Lovino, giving the teen a clear view of the strangers' profile.

The male is definitely taller than Lovino by a couple inches; his chocolate locks curl up at the ends, giving him a childish air; and his eyes are such a vibrant green that Lovino feels like they could pierce his soul with no difficulty. As the male stands in front of him, something in Lovino's mind goes off.

"Ah! You're that fucker Carriedo from the soccer club!" Lovino jabs an angry finger at the confused boss, "What the hell are you doing in my dre-no, wait, since you're here… This must be a nightmare!"

Lovino just wanted to eat, sleep, and sing the day away; it seems like even his dream refuses to grant him peace.


	3. Practice

"Eh? Carriedo? Who are you talking about, Romano? There's no one with that name here, just you and boss!" Carriedo laughs; he points a thumb at his chest when the word 'boss' comes out.

Lovino goes to kick the assaulting man, but 'boss' dodges expertly, and Lovino is pulled down by gravity; his back to the floor and his face ashamed.

"Ahh! Roma! Are you alright? You don't have a concussion, do you? Boss is here, don't cry! I'll nurse you back to health with this cool nurse costume France gave me for my birthday!" The man yells out, scrambling to place Lovino's head on his lap while getting off track. "-but by the time Russia came to America's clone's aid, the cake was already in his pants!"

Lovino decides this is the perfect time to lift his head and –

–Head butt the man in the stomach.

-practice-

Romano feels like disappearing. He recognizes the loud-mouth voice behind him and he wishes he didn't.

The guy who had raised his hand at Mrs. Héderváry's question slams a fist to the table the moment he is allowed to speak freely. "Alright guys, I'll save you from your confusion and explain what advisement is!"

'Oh Dio' Romano wants to just slip under the table and be eaten by a magical warp hole that will take him back to his nice fluffy bed. He decides to lay his head on the table when nothing of the sort happens.

"Come on Alfred, just explain real quick so you can stop embarrassing us." whispers a voice across the room from Alfred. Romano thinks that this voice is familiar too, but can't quite place which country was currently berating the American speaker.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mattie. You need to go slow to build up the climax, like that really cool Z-Men movie where Profes-"

"Shut up already! You're partaking in unnecessarily chatter, Jones." Scratch that, Romano is now going through his messenger bag looking for the sharpest, deadliest item he can get his hands on.

"You can't silence justice, Va-" Alfred is once again interrupted, but this time by Mrs. Héderváry throwing a textbook at the floor in front of Alfred's desk. The unexpected cacophony of sound startled the other students, some jumping up from their seats with a loud squeak.

"Al, sweetie, can you please just get to the point already?" Mrs. Héderváry grinds out, her smile twitching in a completely menacing way, promises of injury directed at the blond teen that was chattering away just moments before.

"Ahhh… Well… Ahah… I was just about to get to it, Mrs. H!" Alfred shuts his mouth for a second, gaining a pensive gleam in his eye as he thinks about how to word his next phrase. "Advisement is… It's technically free time! Advisement is just a classy name for homeroom!"

Mrs. Héderváry smiles at his answer and proceeds to pick up her wayward textbook. Afterwards, the classroom filled with excited chatter as students moved around to sit with recognizable faces.

Romano still does not know what the hell this 'class' is about.

-practice-

"Oof!" 'Boss' lets out, falling on his rear while his hands wrapped around the injured muscle.

Lovino takes this as his chance to escape the evil clutches of the floor and quickly stands up, moving out of reach of the other male. "Don't think you can touch me just because you were accepted into the varsity team our freshman year!" Lovino rages, the previous embarrassed blush turns into pure red-hot anger towards the confused man on the floor.

"…" Carriedo just stares at Lovino, not knowing how to respond to the teen's claims. Right as the angry teen looks like he is about to start flapping his mouth in anger again, Carriedo decides to shout the first thing that came to mind.

"Roma, your cheeks are so red and puffy; you look like a pancake!"

Too bad it was far from the right thing to say at the moment.

-practice-

Romano is sitting, minding his own business, waiting for Advisement to end so he could drag his annoyed body to what he considers the holy hour: Lunch time.

Except lunch is not an hour long, just thirty minutes, and Advisement just started, so he still has a while to go; the Italian nation decides to ignore those two facts for as long as possible.

It is while Romano is fumbling with his fingers, waiting for the class to go by, that he is joined by a male who scrapes out the chair to the right of him; the other teen drops his duffel bag to the floor, underneath the table, and plops right down on the seat. Not once does Romano turn to stare at his neighbor.

The two minutes of peace that Romano is able to enjoy is interrupted by the person next to him trying to start a conversation with the unwilling.

"Elise sends her greetings." The short phrase is said in such a thick, accented, familiar tone that Romano turns his gaze up to the other with an open mouth. Romano stares at the other, checking him out from the bottom up to make sure he is not just seeing things.

The teen is tall and buff, well-built even for a high school student. He is wearing gym shorts and long white socks, his upper body is covered by a skin tight V-neck that stuck to just the right places so as to accentuate his defined pectorals. His eyes are an unnatural color for a human, they are a bright shade of yellow that could be mistaken for gold. The teens' locks are only an opaque imitation to the golden hue his eyes possess.

"N-N-Ne…" Romano stutters out, controlling his nervous body enough not to jump up and flip the table in front of him.

"Ne? Is your brother getting you into his weird noises again? I thought you would stop after you realized how uncool chigi sounded." The well sculpted teen commented, raising an eyebrow as he glances at Romano.

Romano closes his mouth and eyes, turning back to his messenger bag and unceremoniously drops his head on aforementioned item.

"…Lovino?"

-practice-

"A what?" Lovino shouts as he stomps towards the Spaniard. "What the he– a pancake? I knew you were weird Carriedo but what the holy hell?"

Carriedo smiles at Lovino, a sheepish smile that the teen doesn't quite know whether to trust or not, and unwraps his arms from his stomach to lift them up high above his head with the palms facing Lovino; the man shows his harmlessness towards the Italian in the universal sign of peace and surrender.

"Now Roma, will you just take a seat in the kitchen?" Lovino's eyes gain a gleam at the sound of the room he was previously looking for. "I'll cook you some food, anything you want, and we can talk about whatever is bothering you between lunch!" The teen has only one thing to say to the Spaniard:

"C-can you make smileys, you… bastard?"

"Hahah, I have no idea what that is!"

Wrong thing to say, Carriedo.

-practice-

Romano has been pretty confused since the moment he woke up; He's seen his grandfather's ghost, which is apparently not dead, the fucker; His World History teacher resembles another now gone empire; The trigger happy and hamburger bastards are apparently in his only relaxing class; and he is apparently friends with Netherlands.

He's not really sure about that last one either.

"Come on Lovino, we need to get to the cafeteria soon; I actually want time to eat today." The Dutch looking teen mutters out, clearly restless and annoyed with Romano's speed in getting out of class and into the lunch room.

"Calm down, fucker! I can't stand this bag scrapping the back of my knees any longer." Romano grinds out, slowly walking towards the other while trying to fix the length of his strap.

"Stop calling me 'fucker', I have a name, Lovino." The blond sighs, his annoyance reaching the physical level and the hand that is carrying his duffel bag is idly tapping a slow beat on the side of his bag.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want until you finally decide to call me Romano!" Romano stops his attempt to change the strap length of his messenger bag and stomps his foot defiantly, glaring at the teen barely three feet away.

"What the hell, Romano; You happy now?" Romano gives a quiet chuckle and commences his previous actions.

"Yeah Lars, whatever."

The two males continue their trek to the cafeteria; endless turns down hallways and stairs have the nation gulping. Romano cannot even begin to imagine the time it would have taken him to find the cafeteria had Lars, Netherlands, not been there to aid him.

-practice-

"…You have got to be kidding me. How do you not know how to make… smileys?" Lovino is aghast, but still embarrassed; He whispers the food under his breath and dares not look the other in the eye.

"Hahah, I really have no idea! Boss has never heard of such a food before."

Lovino looks back up to the man and sighs, "Whatever, just go to the kitchen and I'll see what you can make, Carriedo."

"Alright! Sounds like a great plan Roma, but… Why do you keep calling me 'Carriedo'? Carriedo asks, his smile never leaving once.

"Why do you keep calling me 'Roma'?" Carriedo is about to respond but is interrupted by Lovino, "I don't actually give a fuck, just go make me some food."

"Okay!"

-practice-

Lunch goes quietly for the two teens; Romano glares at his tray of goop and Lars devours his food like it is the first edible thing he's seen in weeks.

When the bell rings for Romano to attend one of his last three classes, the dread pooling up in the pit of his stomach is interrupted by his blond companion.

"Why didn't you eat? You're going to die today. We have practice today, remember? Knowing you… Yeah, I doubt you ran any this whole summer." Lars bids his farewell before Romano is able to ask what the other is talking about, picking up his pace to get wherever and Romano losing the other teen in the crowd.

"What practice?" he mutters to himself as he glances at his schedule to see which room his next class will be in.

-practice-

"Wait, you're telling me a smiley is… is a potato based food?" Carriedo-boss looks amazed, as if it is the most amazing thing he has ever heard, turning around to go back the way the two came from.

"…Yeah… Hey, wai- Where are you going? I thought you said the kitchen is this way?" Lovino yells out, following the man back to the entrance.

"It is Roma, you should know, it's your house." Now it is Lovino's turn to look amazed, not quite sure whether to believe the other man, "But I really need to get my nurse outfit, I think you're sick."

"I'm sick? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"You don't like potatoes in any way, shape, or form, Roma."

"I what?"

-practice-

While Romano is walking to his next class after separating from Lars, he becomes lost in his mind as he tries to remember the countries, humans, he has yet to see so far in this awkward reality. The only one he comes to realize he actually cares to know the whereabouts of, and not in the 'I'm going to kill you if you get anywhere near my brother' sort of way, is nowhere to be found. Romano is wondering if maybe the country look-alikes he encounters are just a coincidence and the relations in his reality do not affect his relationships with others here. Romano worries that he won't actually see the one nation he really wants to meet.

The teen hears the bell to get to class, but is as lost as he has been all day; the corridor is looking dull without the hectic movement of teenagers all around, and so Romano takes this as his minute of peace to think about what is going on.

And it is while Romano is pondering this and that that the nation becomes so distracted he smashes right into a locker.

Romano is able to hear a laugh right behind him, heartfelt and alive, and Romano is so elated and lost in the moment at hearing that familiar voice that he spits out a retort laced in his native language before he is able to control his happiness towards the other.

"Shut your fucking mouth you damn pomodoro bastardo!


	4. Gramigna

"Palm tree what?" The male that was previously laughing at Romano's unfortunate collision with the locker raises an eyebrow as he questions the others' words, a slight smile taking over his confused expression.

"..." Romano's enthusiasm is crushed by the reality of the situation. This guy, this Spain, might not know him; this Spain could even hate this worlds 'Lovino'.

It is while Romano's thoughts are running a mile a minute that Spain begins to look worriedly at the others' unresponsiveness.

Spain walks up to Romano, waving a hand in the others' blank face. "H-Hey? Vargas? Are you okay?"

The hand moving all over his personal bubble brings Romano back to reality; he slaps the thing away from his face, a scowl replacing his previous features.

"Don't touch me, dumb fuck!" Instead of smiling like his Spain would do, this Spain frowns and steps back.

"Don't have to get all anal about it, Vargas; I was just showing concern…" This was definitely not his Spain, this guy looked down on him, and their slight height difference did nothing to help.

Romano sighs at hearing Lovino's surname. The two males refuse to talk, and after what felt like eternity Spain makes the first move.

"Look, I know you hate me for what happened before," Romano looks at the other, a hundred and one questions running through his head, "but I really wish you'd put it behind you; we all know the Spanish are better at soccer!" Spain smirks right as his last statement leaves his mouth.

Soccer.

Soccer.

The idiot is going to get it now.

-gramigna-

"Potatoes. You don't like them." Carriedo emphasizes again, for Lovino's sake.

"No," Lovino reiterates, "I don't like bastards that won't make me fucking smileys when I'm damn near the next Starvin' Marvin."

"Marvin? When did you change your name, Romano?"

"My name is Lovino!"

"But you just said your name was Marvin."

Lovino never wanted to stab someone so badly in his life.

. . . . .

"Wait, wait." Lovino raises his left hand to visualize his command. "Are you telling me that my name is Romano, I'm currently in Italy, and my only living relative is my twin brother that goes by the name of Veneciano?"

"Yep! That's exactly right, Roma!" Spain smiles, glad to see that his friend was taking the news extremely well.

A long 'hmmm' escapes Lovino's lips as a curious gaze takes over his facial features.

"So are you one of my various sex slaves or something?" The teen smirks, full out laughing as Carriedo's cheeks turn red and the nation hurriedly splutters nonsense and shifts his arms every which way as a response. "I mean... With a name like Romano I HAVE to have bitches all over the globe!"

-gramigna-

"Ow! Why the flip did you headbutt me?" The taller male screeches, as if he really doesn't know why in the world Romano would ever even think to inflict bodily harm to his abdomen.

"You know damn well why! Who the fuck do you think you are to call such a grand sport soccer? Fuck, if I wasn't such a man I would be crying at the blatant show of..." Romano rambles on, causing the other to back up just a bit, hands clutching at his wounded area protectively in case of the other wanting to start another attack.

Doing his best not to snap at the Italian, Spain decides to cut him off. "Vargas."

"...but even then the idiot would probably take his shirt off..."

"Vargas!"

"...which makes no sense! It's fucking Russia for..."

"VARGAS!"

So much for not snapping.

"Fuck! What? You don't have to scream! I'm fucking next to you!" Romano yelped, irritation creeping into his voice.

"But you- Whatever." A sigh escapes the taller teen, "Why are you skipping class?"

Romano contemplates ignoring the question and returning to his quest of blindly searching for his next class, but then realization hits him. He's on a quest to blindly search for his next class and holy fuck he must be halfway done with the damn thing by now. Grumpily, the Italian personification glares at Spain and mumbles out his response.

"What was that? I can't hear you, Vargas."

"I'm not skipping."

Spain rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, "Then what do you call roaming the halls during class time?"

"That's 'cause I'm lo-..." He stops before he can finish his sentence. "What the hell are you doing skipping class then? Don't chastise me!"

Another eye-roll courtesy of the tanner teen. "...I'm smoking weed and getting drunk."

"What?" Romano's right eyebrow moved up, "I thought you only did that on the twelfth of February."

"Huh? How do you know when my birthday is?" Now it is Spain's turn to raise an eyebrow. His question more disturbed than questioning.

Shit. How was he to know that he wasn't supposed to know?

"I'm lost."

"You're what?"

Romano sure has a gift when it comes to making things awkward.

-gramigna-

"I'm not your... your... lady of the evening, Roma!" Spain huffed, his ears turning red in embarrassment at having to have this conversation. "Now don't laugh! I'm just an old friend!"

"Pfft, old friend huh?" Lovino wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, "Are you a special old friend then?"

"Roma! Stop teasing boss! I'm serious!" Carriedo pouted, crossing his arms in a huff. "What happened to the Romano that was shouting at me in the entryway?"

"Huh? Oh that? I thought you were that Carriedo bitch. Luckily, you're nothing like that stick in the mud; although the uncanny similarities in the face are creepy. You sure you weren't separated from a sibling at birth or anything?"

"Sibling? Mm, I do have my sister Portugal, but she doesn't like me too much." Carriedo's look-alike replies, using one of his hands to rub his chin as he keeps thinking of his other 'relatives'.

"Nope, no other siblings... I do have a lot of cousins though!"

"Portugal? Someone named their kid Portugal? Who the fuck does that?" Lovino says, obviously ignoring the rest of Carriedo's words and confused at the name of the others' sibling. "I mean yeah, I've heard of parents calling their daughters America or Panama, which are pretty cool names in my book, but Portugal? That doesn't flow very nice on a lovely maiden!"

"Girls called America? But he's a boy!" Spain interrupted, smile on his face at imagining a female America.

"A boy named America? The hell kind of people do you associate with? Do you guys name each other after countries here?" Carriedo is about to butt-in again, but Lovino continues. "Next you'll tell me that your name is Spain or something equally lame!" Lovino chortles at his own words.

Instead of laughter joining his like Lovino thought it would, the other man in the room stays quiet until the chortling ends.

Once it does, he finally speaks up.

"I never thought my name was lame."

Way to be a jerk, Lovino.

-gramigna-

"I said I was lost, not having a fucking baby, stop looking at me like that!" Romano stomps his foot on the ground while turning his head anywhere as long as it was not on Spain's flabbergasted expression, cheeks red in embarrassment.

"You're lying! There's no way you can get lost here; we've been coming to this school for almost three years Lovino!" Spain explains, the shock and confusion showing less and less on his face as each word floats out of his lips.

"Call me Romano, and I have a damn good reason!"

Hello there Mr. Confusion, welcome back; Spain's face was missing you.

"Romano? Like... Like the cheese?"

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, more of the cast will be introduced next chapter. (:
> 
> Please leave feedback so that I will be able to improve on future chapters!


End file.
